


i am not a hero

by nott_the_best1



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, M/M, cw discussions of racism and alcoholism, not charles friendly, not elias friendly, side jordelia, side thomastair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nott_the_best1/pseuds/nott_the_best1
Summary: from the prompt: “Jem saves Alastair from being wrongfully imprisoned because of the murders or just them bonding over anything”AKA: alastair is accused of being a serial killer, the merry thieves may or may not have been the ones to turn him in, and this is going to get worse before it gets better.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	1. i fear i must apologize to you, too, dear cousin

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings: discussion of alcoholism, the intersection between racism and homophobia and the possibility of being disowned

_You would not answer their questions._

“It doesn’t matter what my answers are,” Alastair told his cousin. “They have their evidence; it didn’t matter what I said. With the reported changes in memory, they won’t believe a thing I say anyways without an alibi, and I haven’t got one.” 

_Perhaps if you answered them for me, I could help._ Alastair had heard a few stories about Jem before, one or two from Will and Tessa and the rest from Cordelia who had surely heard them from James or Lucie, but the Silent Brother standing before him seemed quite different from the warm soul he’d heard about. He imagined that life in the Brotherhood was lonely, hivemind or not. Alastair wondered if he himself had ever been warm and caring, back when he was a child, back before he had turned cold. At least Jem had a reason for the change in him, however. 

Alastair shook his head. “I’ll go before the Mortal Sword tomorrow. What happens after is out of our hands.” 

_There must be something we can-_

“What was my father like, when you were a boy?” 

He was silent for a moment. _I don’t remember much. He was always kind to me._

Alastair hummed. “Odd that he would resolve to stay so far away from you, then.” 

_You must know that I do not blame-_

“Would I be able to pass a letter to Cordelia?” 

_I apologize, but I may only relay messages._

Alastair paced for a moment. There was not much he wished to admit out loud. He was very skilled at _acting_ apathetic, but _being_ apathetic was his father’s talent. He closed his eyes and imagined all of the times that his parents had fought or him and Cordelia had thrown tantrums, and Elias had just rolled his eyes. He always envied his ability to just turn everything off, and he needed to channel it now. “Alright. First-” He thought for a moment. “First, I think it is appropriate at this time for my mother to relocate to the Institute, at least until the baby is born.” He started pacing faster as he thought about what was to happen after. “Then, perhaps they should stay with Cordelia and James, as long as necessary. I don’t- I can’t think of a reason right now, but-” 

_Slow down, Alastair. Your family will be okay. I will ensure they are taken care of._

“No. No, you don’t understand, you must- You must tell Cordelia, you must tell her…” He stopped and thought of Cordelia sacrificing herself, her own wellbeing, perhaps even her own family to protect yet another child from their father’s illness, just as he did. “This should not be her burden.” 

_It should not be yours, either._

“This child should not grow up the way we did,” he confessed finally in a low voice. He looked away as tears finally found their way to his cheeks. 

_I did not realize… We know of your father’s… ailment, but-_

“You didn’t realize _what_? That an apathetic, self-absorbed drunk who is content to waste every penny our family has to drown himself in liquor each night isn’t an ideal father?” 

The Silent Brother thought for a moment, considering his words carefully. _I understand that you want to protect your family, and I will relay immediately to the London Institute that we now recommend your mother stay at the Institute to ensure a safe delivery, but the best way to help right now is to help you. Please, allow me._

Alastair smiled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because I have just one alibi, and he… _he_ …” He turned away from Jem. “He has fair skin, and fair hair, and he is the eldest son of the Consul, and I… I have dark skin, dark hair, the son of a drunkard and a suspected murderess. He was never actually risking anything, was he?” He turned back to Jem. “I understand that you and your friends don’t see an issue with it all, that you could not care less what Anna or Matthew or anyone else does with their nights, but the rest of the Clave is not so. They will see it only one way: that I am the _perverted_ one, the one who corrupted someone pure and innocent.” Nevermind, he thought, that Charles was five years senior to him or that Alastair had been but sixteen the first time Charles had flirted with him or that it was Charles, not him, who had been the experienced one, acting as if he knew all there was to know about sex and love, as if he needed to be the one to pass that knowledge unto him.

He began to pace again, not stopping for a reaction from his cousin. “Anna and Matthew make sense because they live on the fringes of society already, they choose to. It’s easier. But he… He is one of them. They will try to rationalize it, and I no longer kid myself into believing that he would ever defend me. I fear I must apologize to you, too, dear cousin, but it’s quite convenient that Cordelia is already married, seeing as I have managed to single-handedly destroy our family name, even after the drinking and the scandal with James. Unless…” _Unless they disown me_ , he thought, but he could not speak it aloud.

_Alastair, there is no need for apologies. You need not apologize for who you are. If the Clave reacts unseemingly, it is on them and no one else. You are jumping to conclusions before they have been decided. I cannot make any promises to you as to what will or will not happen once the trial is finished, but I can promise that you will not be alone. I will see to it._

“What, you’ll ask all of your little friends for help? I spread lies about them. I said _wretched_ things about your ex-fiancee, your former parabatai, all of them. Why would they care what happens to me?” 

_We have all made mistakes, Alastair. They do not need to define you. As long as you walk the Earth as a free man and a Shadowhunter, you will have a place. You will have a home. That is the promise we must make to one another as Shadowhunters. It may not be in London, but the world is very wide, and should it come to it, I will assist you in finding your place. Family is made more than it is given, Alastair, though I would not count out your sister or your mother or even your father just yet._

Alastair nodded slowly, though still unconvinced. 

_I shall make haste to request your mother’s prompt relocation to the London Institute. Shall I also put in a request for Charles Fairchild to be present at the time of your trial?_

Alastair thought for a moment. “Could you not put it off? What if they were to find the real culprit this very night?” 

_I shall place the request with the Consul. She will be discreet about it, as I am sure she is no more interested in this being forced into light as you are._ He paused for a moment. _I must thank you, Alastair, for sharing this all with me. I only wish to help you. These are heavy burdens to carry, and you should not bear them on your own._

He nodded again, looking down at his hands. “Right. May I ask you one question?”

_Of course, go ahead._

“If evidence was discovered in my personal effects, the one truly responsible must have planted it there, to frame me. But who was it that discovered it? Who was the one who turned it in?” 

_I… I am afraid that is a question I cannot answer._

“Please,” he begged. He hated that he was begging. He hated that he already knew the answer. “I’m not trying to start anything. I just need to know.” Silence. “Please, just tell me it was not Thomas.” 

_I shall see to your requests now, Alastair._

With that, Alastair watched Jem depart, leaving him with his answer. He sat back down, resigned, knowing that no matter what was to occur at the trial the next day, whatever the outcome, whatever the punishment, it would not matter. For whatever bit of life that was left inside of him had just drained away, and there was nothing left of Alastair Carstairs.


	2. all will be well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia confronts the Merry Thieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: descriptions of racism, mentions of alcoholism

"Thank the angel you're all here," Cordelia exhaled as she arrived in the room about the Devil's Tavern. "Have you heard? Alastair was-" She stopped herself as she surveyed the room, registering the looks the Merry Thieves were giving her. "Oh, no. No, no, no." She turned to James. "Tell me you didn't have anything to do with this." 

"Daisy-" 

"Tell me!" 

"I can't lie to you." 

She stumbled backwards, her heart shattered. James reached for her, but she protested. "No! Don't touch me! You can’t lie to me? All you have done is lie, apparently. You didn't... You didn't even tell me... I thought we were doing this together... I was such a fool.”

"Cordelia, you know we had to keep it from you," Matthew explained. "You're rather... overprotective." 

She laughed. "Overprotective? I care for him, Matthew, because he's my brother. I know him as well as I know myself, though I understand if that's confusing for you, seeing as you've never had a brother worth caring for." 

"Cordelia," James said sternly, a warning. "We understand that you're upset-" 

"Upset? You have betrayed me! You could have told me the truth, and I would have helped you. I would have shown you alibi, I would proven to you with evidence that it was not him-" 

"If there is evidence, it will be presented before the courts, and all will be well." 

"You don't get it! You don't. You- I thought all this time that it was me. That I didn't understand the world or society or friendship or... _marriage_ because I was raised isolated from the Clave by an inattentive, narcissistic drunkard." She enunciated each other her final words with all of the vitriol she'd been suppressing since her father arrived in London. "But I was wrong. It was you. You all... You live in a fantasy world, one that your parents created for you. And that's fine. that's good for you, I'm glad that the people in your life were capable and willing to do that for you. But the world does not work the same for all of us." 

"Really, Cordelia? You wish to speak of the world and how it works for -- and _against_ \-- each of us?" Matthew challenged. 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Whatever do you mean, Matthew?” 

“You, what? Don’t believe we know what it’s like to be prejudiced against? Would you have said the same while Alastair himself was ridiculing James for his parentage or me for my… presumed sexual proclivities?” 

Cordelia gawked. "That was over four years ago, Matthew! He said foolish things and he regrets them, yet you continue to live in the past. Not only do you hold mistakes you all made as children over his head, but you dare compare your experience to his? You can go anywhere, do anything, without anyone knowing what you do with your nights. Perhaps you wear that carnation, but you can take it off, Matthew. So, James’ eyes are golden. Tell me, James, when you were eight years old, were you kicked out of the general store because the townspeople believed you to be stealing for no reason other than your golden eyes?” 

James was silent. 

“So, please, tell me again how you understand what it’s like to walk in my brother’s shoes.” She turned back to Matthew. “You were given everything, Matthew. You have all the money you could ever dream of. Your parents love you unconditionally. You _choose_ to live your life openly. Perhaps you should not need to choose, but you do, and it is a privilege to be able to make such a choice so freely, knowing that you will continue to be safe and cared for. Not everyone has such luxuries. My brother no longer even has a choice; you have taken it from him." 

Silence had fallen over the room. The boys had always understood that they were very lucky in life, just as they had understood, on some level, the ways that their parents had been unlucky. However, it was easy to live a lucky life and forget to consider how those around oneself may not afford the same privileges. James looked to her finally. "What... What do you mean by that? What choice?”

She turned to him with a blank expression, then sighed. "I suppose the whole Clave will know soon, anyways. As you know, with the memory magic being used, the Clave needs alibis. Alastair has only got one, and I can’t imagine it will end well for him." She turned to Matthew and sighed, "You and your brother have been given everything. I have no doubt in my mind that Charles will not be held at all responsible for the realities of their affair. He will continue with his life unscathed, to marry whomever he chooses, to obtain any position he chooses, to live whatever life he chooses, just as James would have even if he had not married me. Because that is how the world works. Alastair will be seen as the one who persuaded him into such proclivities.” She paused before muttering under her breath, “Not to mention that I haven't the slightest idea of what will happen when my father learns the truth.” She took a breath and continued, “So, to make a long story short, James, no, I do not believe all will be well.” 

“Cordelia,” he started, “you must believe that we had no intention of exposing anyone’s personal affairs. It was not personal at all; we are only trying to put an end to this mess.” 

“Well, congratulations, James. An innocent man has been arrested, your killer still walks free, and my family is in ruins. I believe you have accomplished quite a lot.” Her eyes scanned the room. Matthew looked to be in a state of shock, Christopher in confusion, but her eyes settled on Thomas, his head hung low, his face turned away. “I… I may not have expected this, but I can believe it well enough. But, you, Thomas? How could you?” 

He looked up at her, tears on his flushed cheeks. “Cordelia, I-” 

“Tell me, was any of it real? Did you ever truly intend to be my brother’s friend, or was it all just ploy for your little detective game?”

He shook his head. “Sort of, at first, but-” 

“I trusted you!” She yelled before restraining her anger. “He trusted you. After everything, after Charles and- I thought that finally, _finally_ my brother had _someone_ in his life who was kind and gentle and caring. Someone honest and trustworthy, but it was all a lie. You used him, too.” 

“Cordelia, I- I’m so sorry.” 

“You are not who I thought you were." Her words echoing ones that Thomas had once spoken. Unlike Thomas,’ however, her realization held no trace of anger or upset. No, her words were spoken only in true fear.

Seemingly finished with the boys’ stunned silence, she took a breath. “If you will excuse me, I must take my leave. James, my mother and I shall be staying at the Institute for the time being, so it would be in your best interest to avoid it as much as possible. There’s not much of a point in continuing this sham of a marriage, seeing as I haven’t got a reputation to save, so I will write to the Consul first thing tomorrow morning requesting a divorce. Then, you shall have what you always dreamed: you will be rid of my family and I forever.” 

“Wait-” James cried, his voice breaking. 

“You are dead to me, James Herondale.” 

Without waiting for a reply, she darted out of the room. 

The four boys were left, staring at one another. Thomas unsuccessfully attempted to stifle his tears while James looked to be on the verge of a complete breakdown, his torso trembling. 

“What, are you two bloody heartbroken now?” Matthew mused. 

Thomas slammed his fist on the table loud enough to alert the whole establishment. “Fuck, Matthew! Shut up!” 

“Thomas, you found the bloodied dagger and Ms. Highsmith’s necklace in his bedroom yourself. We _saw_ him walking around downtown the nights of the Gladstone and Beauvale murders. Whatever Cordelia claims, I truly don’t think we’re wrong about this.” 

“And what if we are?” Thomas challenged. 

“It could have been planted,” Christopher offered. “And there could be many reasons that he was out those nights. After all, we were, too.” 

“Which reasons, Christopher? Have you ever seen him in a bar? He doesn’t even drink. He’s hardly more than a lowly shut-in.” 

“His father does,” James said quietly. 

Matthew glared. “What?” 

“His father drinks. I don’t… I don’t know a lot about it all, but it would follow that if Elias were out drinking again and did not come home, Alastair would be the one to go out looking for him.”

Matthew groaned. “Fine, if we are truly pursuing this, then what? We’ve got maybe half a day if we’re lucky before Alastair is to go before the Mortal Sword.” 

“Then we have half a day to find the true culprit,” Thomas announced, regaining his resolve. 

“If Alastair is our only lead at the moment, we must pursue it,” Kit offered. “Who could have planted it on him? What motive would they have to frame him? Who would have had access to his bedroom?” 

“Well, I can answer one of your questions,” Matthew said nonchalantly. “Who wouldn’t want to frame Alastair Carstairs for murder?” 

“Matthew, if you’re not going to be helpful, please be quiet,” Thomas said in his usual gentle but stern manner, though the complete opposite of the last time he’d asked his friend to be quiet. “Sona is nearly always home; it would be very difficult for someone to enter the house uninvited and not be seen. As Matthew put it, Alastair is a bit of a shut-in, but he’s clearly been going out more, especially at night, since his father has returned. Sona’s been having trouble sleeping as of late, though, so even getting access to his bedroom at night would be difficult. They’ve only one servant, Risa, so there’s truly not many folks moving about the house regularly.” 

“Since when are you on a first-name basis with Mrs. Carstairs?” Christopher commented in confusion, and Thomas blushed. 

“What do you recommend, then?” Matthew asked. 

“Kit is correct, it’s our only lead. We must return to Cornwall Gardens. If we’re lucky, they may have left something behind, or perhaps there’s some sort of record of visitors to the house.” 

James looked uneasy. “This seems wrong. Maybe we can still go after Cordelia-” 

“There’s no time, James,” Thomas admitted. “She’s too angry with us. I’m no happier about it than you are, but if there is any way that we could possibly fix this, we must do it.” 

He nodded. “Let’s go, then.” 

“Won’t there be people at the house?” Christopher asked. “The sun has not even set yet.” 

Thomas sighed. “Cordelia is taking Sona to the Institute, and I’d imagine Risa is accompanying them, at least for the initial journey until she is settled. Elias is just a risk we’ll have to take.” 

As they ventured out, however, they were not even out the doors of the tavern before Thomas stopped in his tracks. If looks could kill, Matthew would have murdered Thomas several times over by now. “Elias is here,” he whispered. 

“What?” James narrowed his eyes. 

“One of us should stay here and keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t return to Cornwall Gardens until it’s been cleared. Besides, I don’t want him interfering with Cordelia’s plans, either.” 

“Are you volunteering, then?” Matthew asked. 

Thomas thought for a moment. “I suppose so. I’ve done my searching already; it’s better to have some fresh eyes. You and James know the layout of the house well enough.” 

“Very well,” Christopher declared. “Thomas, I shall send you a _magical letter_ when we are finished at the Carstairs residence.” 

Thomas narrowed his eyes with worry. “Please don’t. I’m rather weary of fire.” 

“Nonsense. The fire’s not important; it’s a _magical letter_.” 

“It’s a magical letter that you send by lighting it on fire! It should be called a fire letter!” 

“Fire letter,” Christopher hummed. “No, that’s not quite right. No, fire _message_! I shall send you a fire _message_ , Thomas!” 

“Alright,” Thomas whined. “You all should go, we haven’t got much time.” 

“Thomas, are you sure you want to stay here?” James asked. 

“I’ll be fine. He’s a drunk; I’d be surprised if he even stood up before you lot were finished. I just want to make sure.” 

James gave him a short nod, and they took their leave. Thomas settled down at a corner table, pulling out a notebook from his pocket and pretending to be fixated on it while he kept his eye on Elias at the bar. 

Just his luck, and much to his surprise, Elias stood to leave not long after the rest of the Merry Thieves had departed. Thomas waited for a moment after he left, and then went out after him. He stepped out onto the street, looking for a sign of where Elias had gone, but he quickly saw only darkness as a cloth was wrapped around his eyes and nose and he was subdued, quickly losing consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also just wanted to clarify a couple of things, I believe that the Clave will come to certain conclusions and Charles will not refute them, not that he would create the lies himself. These conclusions make sense to me, not only because Charles is a white boy who is seen as an “insider” (which they would try to rationalize), but because orientalist beliefs have hypersexualized the Middle East for centuries, associating MENA with “deviant” male homosexuality. This is believed to be one of the (many) reasons queerness is rejected so thoroughly in the MENA today, and I think it’s important to consider how ideas like orientalism impacted lives in historical fiction, although the concept had not been coined or studied yet.
> 
> come say hi on tumblr! @nott-the-best

**Author's Note:**

> pls say hi on tumblr @nott-the-best


End file.
